


Drunk on You

by HardNoctLife



Series: Bonus Content for Finished Fics [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drunk Ignis Scientia, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, M/M, One Shot, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: Prompto realizes that he has never seen his boyfriend of over a year drunk--not even once. Which begs to question -why- Ignis has never gotten drunk around him in the first place.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Bonus Content for Finished Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1439731
Comments: 20
Kudos: 88





	Drunk on You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evonite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evonite/gifts).



> *blows dust off of my writing skills* Is this how this works?
> 
> This is a birthday gift for my dear friend @Nagifry, who requested drunk Ignis and loves Promnis even more than I do. Happy birthday lovely!

“This is treason,” Noctis says, loudly and with a drunken snort at the end. Prompto giggles uncontrollably when Gladio hugs the prince from behind, engulfing Prompto’s best friend with his tattooed bare arms so that he nearly disappears. Ignis, too focused on the triangle of cups on the far end of the beer pong table, doesn’t say a word, only holding his hand out for a fist bump from Prompto when he sinks the small ball into one of the red solo cups. With a groan of protest, Noctis scoops up the beer and downs it in several gulps.

“Striiiiip,” Prompto demands, he himself already down to only his jeans and underwear. Making a face, Noctis unzips his pants and shimmies them off, shivering from the sudden sensation of cool air on his bare legs.

Stepping back, Gladio frowns. “How is it that Specs is the only one still fully clothed? Have you even drank _anything_?” In the silence of the otherwise empty ABO House, all eyes turn to Ignis as if realizing for the first time that the college professor is still dressed from head-to-toe, which cannot be said for the rest of them.

“It was you who chose this game. I am merely winning it,” Ignis answers without a trace of remorse as Noctis handily misses the table entirely, the ping pong ball he tossed skittering across the hardwood floor.

“Well, I vote we even the playing field,” Gladio says. The statement is accompanied with a wolfish grin and the vocal agreement of both Noctis and Prompto.

“Aren’t you on my team?” Ignis protests when Prompto shoves a drink into Ignis’s free hand.

“Yeah, but we’ve been dating for a year and I’ve never even seen you drunk!” Prompto says, to which Noctis and Gladio both tsk.

“I’ve only ever seen Iggy drunk once, and that was years ago,” Gladio admits, scratching a hand through his scruffy beard thoughtfully.

“And for good reason,” Ignis quips. He wrinkles his nose at the beer and sets it aside in disdain.

Prompto, lip pursing into a pout, embraces Ignis and pulls him against his bare chest before tilting his head up pathetically. “Aw, c’mon Iggy, do it for me?”

There is a pregnant pause as Gladio and Noctis both hold their breaths, Ignis meeting Prompto’s gaze as he stiffens.

“If I am to become intoxicated it won’t be on this swill,” Ignis finally announces. There is a chorus of cheers, and without hesitation Gladio unwinds himself from Noctis and heads out of the room, returning mere seconds later with an armful of bottles which he unceremoniously sets on the table. Beer sloshes precariously in the artfully arranged cups as Ignis selects one of the liquors with a perfunctory nod, unscrewing the lid and taking a large swallow.

Prompto is grinning, already moving to set out more cups for a new game. “Does this mean you’ll drink for me now?” the blond wonders.

Ignis sighs, watching as the others begin to put their clothes back on to begin again. “Very well, if you insist,” the professor agrees reluctantly.

“Alright, maybe now we’ll actually have a chance,” Noctis crows, to which Gladio scoffs.

Shaking his head, the prince’s boyfriend eyes Ignis warily. “Even drunk, I bet Ignis has the best shot out of all of us,” Gladio declares.

Taking aim even as Prompto is pouring liquid into the empty cups, Noctis says: “I’ll take that bet.” He lets the ping pong ball fly, pumping a fist into the air when it finds its target with a satisfying ‘plink.’ Graciously downing the liquor as punishment, Ignis then shrugs out of his jacket, draping it on the back of a nearby chair.

Prompto claps as Ignis rolls up his sleeves and shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Ooh, you’re in for it now, buddy.”

It’s an indeterminate amount of time later, after many pleas of “one more game,” that they finally get down to one cup on each end of the table. Noctis is curled up on the floor in his underwear at Gladio’s feet, snoring loudly, and Prompto has no idea that his body is tilted at an angle as he leans against a chair for support, watching with slack-jawed wonder as Ignis lines up his shot. The professor is clad only in a tie and briefs, ignoring Gladio’s jeers as he focuses on the task at hand.

“This is it—for the game and official bragging rights,” Gladio says, throwing his arms up in a “come at me bro” gesture.

“You will eat those words,” Ignis vows, only growing more cutthroat with each drink he consumes. When the ping pong ball glances off the plastic rim, he curses. “ _Fuck_.”

“Uh huh.” Gladio grasps his projectile with a cocky swagger, flexing and extending his arm several times before letting it fly. Prompto moans when it plops into the clear alcohol, slumping into the chair as the room spins.

“One of you is getting naked,” Gladio boasts when Ignis reluctantly finishes off the last drink. He frowns when all Ignis does is remove the tie from around his neck. “Aw, _c’mon_!”

“That’s quite enough of that,” the professor says with a tone of finality that Gladio knows better than to argue against.

“Fine, fine. I guess I should get the princess to bed anyway.” Gladio bends to scoop Noctis up, and Ignis and Prompto exchange a look.

“Looks like he’s already there,” Prompto laughs. They watch as Gladio grunts, readjusting the rag doll of a prince in his arms. Noctis’s snores continue uninterrupted as Gladio shuffles towards the stairs.

He calls back over his shoulder, eyeing Prompto and Ignis. “Feel free to use the room at the top of the stairs to crash since you’re both sloshed.” Prompto blinks, turning slowly to Ignis. To him (and much to his disappointment), the professor looks the same as usual, but Ignis inclines his head in thanks and gives a wave as Gladio disappears around the corner.

Now left alone with Prompto, Ignis’s gaze pans across the living room, and despite the fuzzy edges to his field of vision, Prompto is able to follow its trajectory to where it lands on a sad looking houseplant on the mantle over an even sadder looking fireplace.

“What did Gladio mean about us both being sloshed?” Prompto asks, sitting up a little straighter in the armchair as Ignis steps towards the plant. Seemingly ignoring the question, Prompto watches as his boyfriend reaches into the pot, fingers sweeping beneath browning leaves before coming away with two small objects. The professor holds them up as he turns, and Prompto squints in an attempt to make them out. It is then, in the lowlight of the lamp from an end table, that Prompto glimpses Ignis ravenous look, the likes of which sends an electric thrill shooting through his chest and in-between the blond’s legs.

“Oh, I am by all accounts unfit to drive,” Ignis agrees off-handedly. Prompto swallows hard as the professor slides his glasses off and carefully folds them before setting them on the edge of the ping pong table, which is when he sees what Ignis has in his hand: a small tube of an unknown substance (although Prompto has a guess) and a pack of cigarettes. There is a silence, which only thickens with each passing second, as Ignis removes one cigarette and a lighter from the box and promptly lights it, inhaling slow before blowing a cloud of smoke into the dark shadows on the ceiling.

Prompto’s heart jumps at the foreign sight, dismayed that he doesn’t really hate it, and he shuts his mouth tightly, having only just realized it was hanging open. “How did you know…?”

“No boy keeps a house plant gladly. It’s a joke that started when Gladio and I were in high school. Something about the needs of a growing boy, or thereabouts. It devolved into sex, naturally.” Ignis takes another long drag, and when he exhales, it’s as if he is breathing directly into Prompto’s chest, embers of desire choking the air from his lungs.

“N-naturally?” Prompto murmurs, freezing like an animal in a hunter’s crosshairs as Ignis saunters towards him. Even in only his underwear, Ignis is an intimidating sight as he approaches, still able to set Prompto’s drunken nerves on edge.

“I never did tell you all the details of our escapades, have I? I was drunk then, too.” Ignis places a hand on either side of Prompto’s body, leaning down and in to brush full lips against the blond’s neck, and Prompto’s shiver is unrelated to the fact that he doesn’t have pants or a shirt on. “Perhaps I should demonstrate instead?” he whispers, alcohol-laden breath tickling Prompto’s skin.

“Y-you—we—I—” Words are escaping Prompto at a rapid rate, and Ignis’s resulting laugh is nothing like Prompto has ever heard. It’s deep and sultry—downright _devilish_ —and it sounds like Prompto is about to get bruises on both hands and knees before the night is over. Ignis makes time for another round with his cigarette as Prompto’s thoughts play out comically across his face, eventually settling on mortified arousal, a crimson blush and wide eyes.

Flicking the dying butt into a half-filled solo cup, a remnant of their forgotten game, Ignis slides his knees along the outside of Prompto’s thighs, settling decidedly into the chair cushion and his boyfriend’s lap. Prompto tilts his head up and the world shifts pleasantly around him, causing the blond to grab onto Ignis’s hips for support despite the fact he is sitting still. The professor chuckles again, running a finger from the edge of Prompto’s jaw all the way down his chest to where a trail of golden hair disappears beneath his boxers waistband. That same finger hooks under the elastic and tugs slightly, making the muscles of Prompto’s abdomen clench in response and his cock curl upwards.

Ignis doesn’t need to lower his voice, but he does so for Prompto’s benefit. “My darling Prompto, I am going to ravage you—here, on this floor. And when I am through with you, you will be more drunk than any alcohol has ever made you.”

Mouth having gone dry, Prompto licks his lips. “Is that, uh, what you said to Gladio all those years ago?” he wonders with a nervous laugh. Ignis’s hand moves past the thin cotton of Prompto’s undergarments to the warm space hidden between the blond’s legs, and an undignified whimper slips past Prompto’s lips.

“Dearest?” Ignis says, as patient as if he were speaking to a child.

Grimacing as he ducks his head, Prompto stutters. “Y-yeah?”

Hand squeezing around Prompto’s shaft to emphasize his point, Ignis kisses Prompto slow, the lingering taste of nicotine still fresh on the professor’s tongue. “I’m going to need you not to mention Gladio while I’m seducing you,” Ignis states, accent thicker than usual.

“Oh—sure, no problem.” The concession is swallowed in another kiss, this one hungrier than the last. It’s the last words Prompto will speak for some time, although not the last noise he will make, and true to Ignis’s word, the start of an intoxicated haze that has nothing to do with booze.

* * *

Prompto’s first thought when he wakes up is that the room is too bright. Harsh sunlight streams through the slits of the blinds on the window overhead, falling across his face and into his eyes. Blinking at the offensive intruder, Prompto untangles himself from the blanket and couch cushions that he has no recollection of pulling onto the floor before he fell asleep, only to quickly grab for the same blanket when he realizes he is stark naked.

“Ignis?” Prompto croaks, turning his head left and right in search of the man. The motion produces a throbbing behind his eyes, which makes Prompto close them reactively, but he nearly loses his balance as a result, hand shooting out to find the back of the couch.

The silence offers no clues to where Ignis might have gone, so Prompto wanders into the kitchen with the blanket draped around him like a cloak, thinking maybe Ignis would have gone in search of coffee.

“Yo.”

The voice startles Prompto when he rounds the corner and he jumps higher than he thought was possible, screeching embarrassingly as he topples over. Prompto barely manages to hold on to his makeshift clothing as his body goes sideways. A rumbling laugh masks the sound of Prompto’s quick inhalations as he attempts to settle his racing heart, and he glares up at Gladio once he gathers his bearings. The larger boy, wearing a loose pair of sweatpants and nothing else, hair in a messy bun, offers his hand to pull Prompto to his feet.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Gladio says with a low whistle, the two of them moving naturally towards the kitchen once more.

“Why?” Prompto grumbles. He can’t resist the urge to pull the blanket more tightly around himself—just in case.

“You’re walking,” the frat boy laughs. Prompto stops midstride, feeling the sudden rush of blood to his face as he makes a choking noise. It’s the first time he notices how his body is sore in places that isn’t just from sleeping on the floor. “Coffee?” Gladio offers nonchalantly.

It takes Prompto a few seconds to process the question, flashes of images now piecing themselves together in his mind—hands gripping furniture, hips pressing to hips, mouths and tongues finding tender flesh to tease—Prompto feels his head spin, but whether it’s from his hangover or the loss of blood to his skull as it travels elsewhere, he isn’t quite sure.

_Both, probably._

“Coffee would be awesome.”

He finds a stool to sit on as he watches Gladio shuffle around the ABO House’s kitchen, a quiet comradery and mutual appreciation filling the air.

“Iggy doesn’t like losing control,” Gladio announces matter-of-factly, and he sets a mug of coffee in front of Prompto with a ‘clink.’ It’s an obvious explanation for why he never gets drunk, and Prompto mentally kicks himself for not recognizing it sooner. Gladio shrugs, joining Prompto by taking the stool next to him. “Take it as a compliment.”

“I do,” Prompto assures him. “He should know by now that he’s safe with me.” It isn’t meant to sound bitter, but it comes out a little harder than Prompto intended, making him pause.

Gladio nudges the blond with his shoulder, nearly causing Prompto to spill coffee onto the counter. “He wouldn’t have agreed to it if he didn’t trust you completely.” Prompto nods, allowing the silence to lull, and Gladio doesn’t press any further.

A few minutes later, Prompto _feels_ someone approaching more than he hears. Turning, he finds a bleary-eyed Ignis in a black robe that is several sizes too big (probably Gladio’s) entering the kitchen. His hair is damp, solving the mystery of where he disappeared to. Ignis’s eyes lock with Prompto’s, and for a second it feels like the morning after a one-night stand, neither of them wanting to speak first as they awkwardly shift and look away. It reminds Prompto that although they’ve been dating for a while now, he still has a lot to learn about Ignis—and he wants to learn everything.

“Good morning. Coffee?” Gladio suggests, cutting through the discomfort smoothly.

“Gods, yes,” Ignis wholeheartedly agrees, taking up space on the other side of Prompto. He reaches to run fingers through Prompto’s hair, hesitating at the last second. Not wanting there to be any doubt between them, Prompto nuzzles into his boyfriend’s touch.

 _It’s okay, I love all of you_ , Prompto wants to say. _You can let your guard down with me._

Gladio takes his time pouring coffee for Ignis, leaving his back turned to the two. Prompto seizes the opportunity to pull Ignis down for a kiss, longer than their usual greeting peck. When they pull away, he sees the relief in Ignis’s eyes, his fears dissipating like the steam rising from his coffee mug.

“Thank you,” Ignis murmurs as Gladio hands him a cup, eyes never straying from Prompto’s.

“I’m going to see if I can get His Highness up.” And with that, Gladio leaves abruptly, and Ignis and Prompto are left to their own devices.

As soon as Gladio’s footsteps fade, Ignis starts to speak in a rush. “About last night—”

“It’s okay—”

“—I apologize for any—”

“—there’s no need—”

“—damage I might have caused—”

“ _Ignis_.” Prompto presses palms against the backs of his boyfriend’s hands, which are currently gripping the mug of coffee, and he can’t help but laugh at the distressed look on the professor’s face. “You _do_ remember how our relationship started, right? Everyone kinda loses it when they’re drunk. That’s the whole fun of it. It’s okay to live a little, you know.”

Ignis blows out the breath that he had been holding, fingers twitching beneath Prompto’s hands. “That’s what _other_ people do,” he insists stubbornly.

Prompto ducks his head with a sigh, drumming against Ignis’s knuckles. “So…it _wasn’t_ fun for you?” he wonders, trying to keep the hurt out of his tone.

Slowly, Ignis sets his mug aside, hands returning to cup Prompto’s face. “Darling,” he begins with obvious frustration. “I have a difficult enough time containing my affections for you while _sober_ , let alone when compromised.” _That_ catches Prompto’s attention, and he peers into Ignis’s eyes curiously, allowing one shy smile to flicker across his lips.

“Really?”

“Sometimes you truly are an idiot.” Ignis sighs noisily, but he’s smiling too. “If I were to become drunk more often—well.” He stops, the corner of his mouth curving upwards in a mischievous smirk. “We’d be fucking in public before long.” Prompto chokes on air, pulling away to cough while Ignis folds his arms and watches with amusement.

“O-oh,” is all Prompto can say once he recovers. Ignis’s laugh is loud and genuine, and it warms Prompto from his head to his toes.

“Now, if you’re into that sort of thing, then…” Ignis leaves the statement hanging and it is too much for Prompto’s morning brain to handle. All thoughts leave him, replaced with a very graphic image of him and Ignis naked on the beer pong table, surrounded by cheering ABO frat boys. His stomach lurches, and he has to close his eyes to fight down the sudden surge of bile in his throat.

“Note to self: only get Ignis drunk in a safe space.”

There is more laughter—from both of them this time—and Prompto turns so that their shoulders touch, the closeness a more soothing remedy for his hangover than either coffee or a cold shower. Ignis rests his head on top of Prompto’s, lips pressing briefly into the boy’s golden locks.

The moment is perfect, but a question flits through Prompto’s mind, exiting his mouth before he can think better of it. “Was Gladio unable to walk after you two got drunk together?”

Ignis muffles his snicker by burrowing into Prompto’s neck, and his whispered response raises the hair on Prompto’s arms. “Oh, darling, he was absolutely bedridden—but give me the time and I swear you will be too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fanart by the very lovely and talented @CarrieVogel5 (Twitter)/@MysteriousBean5 (Tumblr)
> 
> I respond to all comments. Feel free to yell at me on Tumblr or Twitter, hard-noct-life and @HardNoctLife respectively.


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